


The Last Time

by PenguinofProse



Series: Child of our Time [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Missing Scene, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27151240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: Missing scene from "Child of our Time". Bellamy's point of view as he is stranded in the snow.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Child of our Time [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681855
Comments: 18
Kudos: 63





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a missing scene set in chapters nineteen and twenty of Child. We've got Bellamy's point of view of his fall out with Clarke and stay in the cave. I wanted to write this as a thank you to everyone who voted for Child in the BFWA - I'm super excited that it made it through to two finals!
> 
> Huge thanks to Stormkpr for betaing this. Happy reading!

Bellamy hears the door slam behind him as he stalks down the street away from Clarke's house. Good. He's glad it slams. He's furious, and he wants her to know it.

He realises he's being irrational. With an odd kind of detachment, he observes that he will probably regret getting so angry with her, once he's cooled off. In fact, he can just imagine her chastising him that he ought to use his head, rather than letting his heart persuade him into acting so stupidly. So he knows on a logical level that he's made a mistake, here.

But he just cannot bring himself to turn around and put it right.

He's so damn hurt. That's the problem. He's hurt, and he's lashing out, because that's what he does – especially where Clarke is concerned.

He scrubs a hand across his eyes. He doesn't want to cry over some stupid argument with Clarke, but it seems that he's destined to do so whether he likes it or not. And destined to cry right here in the middle of town, too.

Good god, but he's angry with her.

He hates it. He just hates it. He hates that he's spent the last three months trying to show her that he cares about her, and she just keeps throwing that back in his face – or worse still, ignoring his efforts altogether. He's been trying to dial it back a bit, since she told him about her pregnancy and made it so clear that she's not interested in a sexual relationship with him. He's been trying to keep his feelings under control, trying to show her he cares in a more subtle way that might look friendly or even _brotherly_.

He's crap at it.

He just can't seem to help himself reaching for her, staring at her, kissing her cheek in a way that's rather more lingering than any familial cheek kiss he would ever dream of greeting his sister with.

He's been nearing the end of his tether for a while, now. He's been growing increasingly frustrated by their situation, upset that Clarke has been so closed off with him. But more than anything else he's been getting angry with himself for still being so stubbornly in love with her despite everything.

So to hear her telling him just now that she still cares about him? That she _always_ cares, even when she can't seem to stir herself to show it? As if she does care about him in a meaningful or even romantic kind of a way after all, and she's trying to say he's crazy for doubting it?

That was the last straw.

…...

He doesn't sleep much that night. He tosses and turns a little, sheds a few tears that he thinks are more frustrated than sad, and tries to pretend he's wearing the sweater he once left at Clarke's house because the cold snap has left his bed chilly, not because it smells faintly of her from its brief stay on her couch.

The next morning, he gets up and laces his boots without dawdling. Going out on the mission will do him good, he thinks. He's made to be outdoors and getting on with things. And a little space will probably be best for both him and Clarke, give them chance to think about how to do better at caring and waste less time on miscommunication.

With that resolved, he marches out of his apartment and heads to find the rest of his team. He slams the door behind him as he leaves, but that's only to be expected, he thinks. He's still harbouring a fair bit of frustration.

He finds Miller already waiting. That's typical – Miller has always had a special talent for steadfast loyalty. So of course he's the first to arrive for any mission.

"Morning." Bellamy greets him, curt.

Miller does not get the message. He's in high spirits as he starts talking. "Hey. Hope you brought good thermals – Raven says it might snow."

Bellamy grunts by way of response.

Miller is apparently undeterred. "I fancy some snow, you know? Might make a nice change. And Jackson got me this new sweater. Hate to think how much it must have cost him to trade for it."

Bellamy nods absently. He thinks of the slightly Clarke-scented sweater he left at home. Should he have brought that? No. He's a tough guy. He doesn't need some stupid sweater on this expedition. And curse Miller, anyway, for banging on about his happy romantic relationship.

"Are you alright, Bellamy? Not worried about Clarke? She'll be fine, you know. She's got the best medical team." Miller laughs merrily at his own joke, then seems to realise that Bellamy is not laughing. "Bellamy? What is it?"

"We had a fight." He bites out, short and sharp.

Miller gapes for a moment. And then he collects himself, slaps Bellamy bracingly on the back.

"You'll figure it out, Bellamy. You guys always do. You could stop and say goodbye to her on the way if you think it'll help?"

Bellamy snorts, loudly. He's not sure what would help, if he's being honest. But he's pretty certain that a passing word of goodbye the night after a raging row is not going to mend several centuries of dysfunctional devotion and miscommunication.

Good god, but loving Clarke is exhausting.

…...

He was right – he does feel much better, after a couple of hours out in nature. And he gets on well with the team he's got with him – Miller is his best friend, apart from Clarke on their good days, and he's liked and respected Indra for almost as long as he's known her. Ivon and Drusus he doesn't know so well, but they're quiet and reliable and they kept Octavia alive in the bunker, so he's got a lot of time for them.

All in all, he's starting to feel slightly more functional.

That's a problem, though. Because as his anger fades, and rational thought returns to him, he finds that he is increasingly hating himself for some of his worse decisions of the last few days and weeks and months.

There's a moment, just coming up to midday, when he genuinely considers taking the lazer comm from Miller and calling base, just to give Raven a message for Clarke. He knows that's stupid. He knows that a panicked apology delivered via a mutual friend can do nothing for the way he slammed the door on her last night.

He's just so sick of arguing with her. He swears their relationship used to be rather more effortless, back before Praimfaya.

Miller must read his thoughts. He drops back to walk at Bellamy's side, nods at him with a careful smile.

"You'll figure it out." He repeats firmly. "You know you will. You just need to show her how much she means to you. Sometimes I think she's not good at seeing when other people value her."

He nods. Miller's right. That is very Clarke. It's frustrating that Miller came to that conclusion when Bellamy's the one who's been in love with her for centuries, but he's starting to think that's just the way his life works, these days. He's starting to understand that loving someone and understanding them do not necessarily come hand in hand – at least not when their story is quite as complicated as the past he shares with Clarke.

"You've got this." Miller reiterates, stepping aside to dodge a root in the path.

That's it. That's what gives Bellamy the idea. That seems like a way of showing Clarke how important she is to him, that he loves and values and respects her in her own right, not only as the mother of his child. He knows how fascinated she is by medicine, how much she enjoys innovating with the new herbs that exist on Sanctum.

He bends and snaps off the protruding root Miller just encountered. It belongs to some kind of shrub he's never seen before. Great. A novel plant for Clarke to play with. That's about as good as gifts get round here, he figures. That's about the best apology gesture he's likely to come up with.

He only hopes Clarke agrees with him.

…...

He keeps collecting plants, for the next couple of days. It keeps him sane, more or less, and gives him something to do while he walks other than fixate on his argument with Clarke. It helps him to feel close to her, too, kind of like that tired old sweater.

He's a pathetic mess, he decides.

But maybe that's OK. They're both kind of messy – that's why they keep having these stupid arguments, why they're not so good at communicating about the things that really matter. He can see that, now he's got a little distance from the situation. He can see that Clarke's struggling to handle her emotions for good reason, after everything she's been through.

This is the last time they are going to fight on this scale, he promises himself as he picks some strange silver leaf. This is the last time they will throw such angry words at each other.

Next time he feels his temper rising, he's just going to remind her she's important to him. He doesn't think he's naive to believe that reassuring her like that will soothe pretty much any argument they might ever have.

…...

They set up camp for the second night in a deep cave near a racing river. Bellamy doesn't much like the look of the swollen waters, but he figures that having a water source is better than not having one, and that in this mountainous terrain this brutal river is about the best water source they're going to get.

"I'll take first watch." He volunteers, as he always does.

"I'll join you." Ivon volunteers. That's pretty common, too.

They sit in companionable silence for a while. Bellamy seems to remember that Ivon and Echo were good friends when they were on the Azgeda queen's guard together, but he knows that from Echo, not from Ivon himself. He wonders whether today is the day to mention that. He figures that maybe having a few more friends could be good for him – it might be healthy to feel less emotionally dependent on Clarke, more like there are other people who can help him manage his mood.

But before he can speak, Miller is peering out of the cave.

"Bellamy, lazer comm for you."

His heart leaps in his chest. "Who is it?" He asks, eager.

"Madi."

Bellamy waits a moment. He hesitates, desperately hoping that there is more to Miller's answer. Praying that he's about to say Clarke's name, too.

He never does. And that should be no surprise, Bellamy thinks. The last lazer comm call he shared with Clarke was pitiful – he remembers it well. She couldn't have made it clearer that she was only there for Madi's sake. And yet he finds that all the same, he is disappointed that Miller does not mention her.

"No Clarke?" He checks, because apparently he enjoys causing himself pain.

Miller shakes his head sadly. "No. Sorry. But Madi sounds really excited to speak to you."

Yes. Of course. His daughter. He loves Madi with all his heart, and he's looking forward to chatting to her.

But he loves Clarke with all his soul, and that really does _suck_ , sometimes.

He heads to the lazer comm, picks up the handset.

"Madi?" He asks, trying to sound happy to speak to her.

"Dad. Hey. How are you doing?"

He almost breaks out into hysterical laughter, manages to smother it at the last moment. How is he doing? Aside from camping in a cold cave with a pocket full of stupid medicinal herbs while he worries about the love of his life sitting at home hating him?

He's doing just great, thank you very much.

"I'm fine." He lies brightly. "How are you, kid?"

She hesitates a moment. "I'm OK. I'm worried about Mum, though."

He panics all at once. "Clarke? How is she? She's not sick? How's the baby?"

"She's _physically_ fine." Madi rushes to correct him. "I just mean – she's sad since you went away. _More_ sad, I mean. I just want you guys to fix things."

He sighs deeply, scrubs a tired hand over his forehead. "I want that too, Madi. Trust me. I'm sorry it's upsetting you. I – I'll try to put things right when I get home."

"You could try now." Madi pipes up, incongruously bright.

"Now?" What does she mean? Is Clarke there after all?

"Yeah. You could send a message with me. And then when I call you tomorrow she'll probably come talk to you too. And then you guys can kiss and make up, or however that works over a lazer comm." Madi suggests, all naive enthusiasm.

"I don't think it works quite like that, kid. She's pretty mad at me."

"She'll get over it." Madi says, with utter certainty.

He sighs. He can't keep talking about this forever. It reminds him of that old Earth idiom about flogging dead horses. There's nothing to be done, right now, and he's only tormenting himself and Madi if he allows the conversation to continue in this vein.

He therefore moves the conversation onward.

"Tell me about school, Madi? What have you been learning?"

"Not much." She says, uncharacteristically sullen. "Tell me about you. I – I miss you, Dad. What's it like out there?"

He sighs, brushes away a couple of silent tears. He's already missed twelve years of his daughter's life. This is why he wasn't planning to be away on missions so much any more, he seems to remember. He was planning to stay home and catch up on lost time with her.

So much for that.

"It's cold." He says shortly. "I'm sorry I had to go away. Really, I am. I'll be staying home a lot more in future." He promises impulsively.

"That's OK. I get it. You had to go."

"Yeah." He swallows stickily. "It was the only choice. Could you tell your mum that, for me? Could you tell her I said those exact words? The _only choice_."

If she thinks he's lost his mind, she doesn't mention it. She simply makes an agreeing sort of noise, and he imagines her nodding with that concentrated frown across her brows. It's an expression she definitely inherited from her mother, that one. It makes him smile every time he sees it.

He wonders what to do, now. He's proved himself hopeless at having a lighthearted chat with his daughter. And he sort of wants to give her some message about this stupid pathetic collection of plants he's got as a terrible gift for Clarke, but he cannot quite face it. He figures it will sound even more foolish, said out loud.

It's Madi who breaks the silence.

"I should go, Dad. Jackson wants to speak to Miller. But I'll be back tomorrow, and I'll bring Mum with me."

"Good luck with that. She won't want to come with you." He says, trying for a joke, but it comes out bitter.

"She will." Madi says fiercely. "You don't know her like I do, Dad. Or you don't know what she's like _now_ like I do. I know you think she doesn't care but that's just because she cares _too much_ and she's scared of it. I'm telling you, she'll be here tomorrow. If I tell her that message, and tell her you're missing her, she'll be here."

"I am missing her." He admits, voice breaking. "I'm missing both of you so much, kid. We're going to go on a lot of picnics when I get home."

She laughs. "That sounds good. I mean it though, really. She'll be here. I bet you anything she will be here."

He snorts. "You're on. I'll get you a book if you can talk your mum into giving me a chance to talk to her." He's pretty sure that bribing his daughter to mediate in his relationship is screwed up on many levels. And yet it's probably the least screwed up thing about his whole dysfunctional family, so it doesn't greatly bother him.

"Sure." Madi says brightly, as if it's as easy as that.

Maybe it is, he thinks. Maybe if both of them can let go of all this fear they've been carting around since they landed on Earth, they can just get on with laughing together with their daughter, and loving each other, and living their lives.

"Take care, Madi. I'll speak to you tomorrow. And I can't wait to hug you when I get home." He's still not exactly used to paternal gestures of affection, but he loves his little girl to the Earth and back, already.

"You, too, Dad. Stay safe."

"And hug your mum for me." He adds, on impulse. "Make it a good one. And – yeah. Remember that message."

"I will. I promise. We'll speak to you tomorrow."

He sets down the lazer comm, feeling somewhere between ashamed of himself for burdening his twelve year old daughter with his relationship woes, and more hopeful than he has felt in months.

…...

His hope dies, very abruptly, three hours later.

"I lost the lazer comm." Miller announces, face contrite.

"What?" Bellamy asks, confused.

"I lost the lazer comm." His old friend repeats.

"Lost it? What do you mean – _lost_ it?" Indra asks.

"I mean it's in the river." Miller offers. "Sorry. Not much we can do about it now."

Bellamy laughs. It's a stupid, hysterical reaction, but he laughs. Of course the lazer comm is in the river, just as he was starting to think he might be able to speak to Clarke tomorrow. Typical. Just his luck.

"We should head home in the morning." Indra suggests. "It's not safe to stay out here when we can't call for backup."

"Yeah. I'm sorry." Miller offers. "I know I screwed up. But is it bad of me to say it seems like a funny accident, compared to some of the disasters we've had?"

"It's OK, Miller. You're right. It's ridiculous. Accidents happen." Bellamy slaps him on the shoulder, and goes to get some rest.

At least this means they'll be heading home soon. At least there's that.

…...

Losing the lazer comm doesn't seem so funny, the following morning, when they all wake up to a world blanketed white. It has snowed in the night – and not just snowed, but _poured_ , heavy white flakes blanketing everything. _Smothering_ it, even.

No way are they getting home today. They can barely get out of the cave to piss far enough away not to smell it. It is, all things considered, an absolute disaster.

"At least we have plenty of water." Drusus offers bracingly. "We're not going to die of dehydration."

His words hang heavy in the air. They're not going to die of cold – _yet_. They have plenty of firewood and decent clothing. And the air temperature hasn't dropped that much, it's only that the snow on the ground makes it _feel_ colder, somehow. And they have a few more days before they starve, and there might be the odd insane rodent still running through the snow, Bellamy supposes.

But yes, they might die. It could happen. They could die in this cave without their loved ones back in Sanctum ever knowing what happened to them.

Bellamy could die in this cave without Clarke ever knowing he loves her at all.

…...

The first day is the hardest. Bellamy's still keyed up from the optimistic note his call with Madi ended on last night, still instinctively excited about speaking to Clarke this evening even though he knows it will not happen, now. He's still in denial about the fact they are stuck here. And the snow starts falling again, then shows no sign of stopping.

He misses Madi and Clarke. That ought to be obvious, perhaps, but he misses them with a sickening pain in the pit of his stomach. He never realised it was possible to miss _anyone_ this much. It is worse, even, than missing Octavia during Praimfaya. He misses Echo, too. Not in the same gut-wrenching way he misses his little family. More in that she's not here, and he wishes she was. He's got so used to her having his back in recent years. It feels strange to be out here without her good sense and bracing encouragement.

The second day is a little easier. Miller catches a large rat. They eat three bites of it each, and it feels like a feast.

By the third day, Bellamy finds that he is too tired and bored to care. Cold, too, now that he comes to notice it. He's seriously beginning to wish he'd brought that sweater with him.

He wonders if any search party will come to look for them. He supposes that if the snow is so impassibly thick here, it must be pretty bad at Sanctum, too. Probably Kane is too sensible to send more troops out in conditions like this.

He can imagine Clarke setting out without permission, though. It's probably just a fantasy – she's far too sensible to actually do that. And she doesn't care about him enough to trek through snowdrifts for him, he's pretty sure. It's more the kind of thing she'd do for Madi – in fact, he reasons, she won't be going anywhere in this weather because she's pregnant with baby Madi.

He still allows himself to fantasise about it, though. He doesn't have a whole lot else to occupy his time, after all. He allows himself to dream of a world where Clarke loves him in that kind of all-consuming way that involves braving snowdrifts and scaling mountains. He allows himself to pretend that she loves him half as much as he loves her.

He fantasises about other things, too. He dreams of all the ways he will make up to her for his bad behaviour, when he gets home. He pictures her naked body in his mind's eye, too, plans out entire evenings of seduction, new sex positions they haven't had chance to try yet, even what they might name the children who could come after Madi.

He might be getting a little ahead of himself. They're still fighting, last he checked. And she might not care for him in a romantic or sexual kind of way at all. But he has nothing else to do, here, and he desperately needs some hope to hold onto.

It seems to be day five, now.

He wonders when that happened.

…...

It's day seven, when Miller corners him.

"You should tell me what you and Clarke were fighting about. I can see you're still fixating on it."

" _Are_ fighting about." Bellamy corrects him instinctively.

Miller snorts without humour. "We're stranded in a cave in a snowstorm, Bellamy. Believe me when I say she'll never want to fight with you again if we get out of here safely."

Huh. He likes the sound of that. He likes the idea that this might be the last time they ever fight. He seems to remember he had that thought himself, a few days ago.

It turns out that being stuck in a cave and inside his own head is not a good recipe for sanity.

He has a go at following Miller's advice.

"We weren't really fighting _about_ anything. We were just... fighting. I just get so sick of feeling like I care about her more than she cares about me. And she's so hard to read. I could swear I used to know what was going on in her head but now – she's a complete mystery to me."

Miller snorts. "Most people can't read their partner's thoughts perfectly, Bellamy. That's where talking comes in. I know you think you're supposed to be able to guess everything Clarke's thinking because you guys used to be so close before. But that doesn't mean you're failing if you have to talk about things now, rather than just _knowing_."

"But I want us still to be close." He bites out, upset. That's the rub, isn't it? He wishes they were still close. For all her talk about how their experiences are part of them, he often finds himself wishing they could just turn back the clock.

"You can be close without being able to read each other in that easy way you could back when everything was simpler." Miller suggests. "You've been through a lot. It's normal that you're both less open with your emotions. Like I say – it's normal to have to _talk_ to your partner rather than always knowing exactly what they're thinking."

Bellamy frowns. Miller does seem to keep saying that. "What do you mean?"

"I got together with Jackson almost as soon as we really knew each other. We had to talk about everything because we didn't know each other well enough to guess and hope for the best. You and Clarke were best friends first, and it seems like you think that's supposed to mean you don't have to put any effort in."

He bristles. He's been putting _plenty_ of effort in, thank you very much. It's Clarke who can't seem to kiss him in public even if her life depends on it.

Miller must read his mood. "I don't mean you're not trying. I mean – maybe you're not trying _right_."

Huh. That would explain it. That would explain why they keep making the same mistakes, keep failing to communicate over everything from sex to careers options to caring about each other.

"You're saying she really doesn't know how I feel about her?" He asks, genuinely stunned. He thinks he's been wearing his heart on his sleeve ever since that night he realised he still cared about her.

"I'm saying that you've given her some clues, and maybe she's sometimes reading them right. But she's in a bad place, Bellamy. She's got no self esteem. She's not like that confident Clarke we first landed on Earth with. She's not going to realise you're crazy about her unless you actually tell her and show her."

It's an interesting experience, this, Bellamy muses. Miller has not told him much he didn't know, or couldn't have worked out for himself. But hearing it from someone else and talking it through with a trusted friend make the truth of it hit home much more, somehow. He sort of knew that he and Clarke weren't communicating all that well, was basically aware that she seemed very insecure about the state of their relationship.

But now Miller has come straight out and told him he should make his feelings clearer, it seems like the most obvious thing in the world.

…...

They've been in the cave ten days when it stops snowing at last. Bellamy is relieved – he's spent far too much time sitting here, bored and lonely, worrying about how Madi and Clarke are coping without him. Worrying, too, about his plan to put things right, and set his dream of a perfect family in motion.

Clarke might not love him, of course. He's still very aware that is a possibility, no matter how firmly Miller might encourage him to make a move. But he figures he'll never know if he doesn't at least try to show her how he feels. And even if she does decide she can only care about him as a friend or a brother – well, then. He at least wants to be the best friend or brother he can be.

He's feeling almost hopeful, though. He's pretty sure that platonic friends do not enjoy their obligatory sex life quite as much as he and Clarke were doing, before she sprung the news of her pregnancy upon him. He's pretty sure that they don't cuddle all through the night, like he did that time he stayed over after his birthday.

It's stopped snowing, and that's great. But the path that leads from the cave is still impassible, so he resigns himself to a few more days of waiting.

…...

He gives up the following morning. He grabs a spoon, considers it for a moment, and then discards it. Instead he opts for Indra's sword, and strides straight out into the snow.

"What are you doing?" Ivon asks, wearing a puzzled frown.

"Going home." Bellamy says, concise and honest.

With that said, he starts scraping snow aside with the flat of Indra's sword.

"We can't just walk out into that. It's not smart." Drusus says. "If it's that deep here, we don't know how deep it might be elsewhere. We're safe here. We should sit tight and wait."

"Wait for what?" Bellamy asks, pointed. "For the spring thaw? For a rescue team that's not coming? For our friends and family to decide we're dead?"

He keeps trudging slowly forwards, clearing snow laboriously with the sword as he goes.

"That's my sword, Bellamy." Indra informs him mildly.

"I know. But I'm going home. So you can follow me, or you can stay here without your sword."

She's not impressed. She follows close behind him, tutting. "I know you're leaving. I'm with you. But I'll use my own sword, Bellamy. Find yourself a different tool."

So it is that the five of them set out for home.

…...

They only make it a couple of miles, that first day. But a couple of miles closer to home is a good thing, Bellamy feels. And they find a shallow cave to stay the night – it's cramped, but it will do.

The following day is slightly better. The snow grows thinner, as they move further south. They're only a little over a day's walk from home by the time they set up camp.

Needless to say, they keep walking on the third day. They're only a couple of miles away from Sanctum when it grows truly dark, and Bellamy is not about to let a little night time keep him from his family a moment longer. He can certainly see, now, what Clarke meant about him being driven by his heart. He's aware that striding out into a snowdrift and setting about him with a sword was probably not the smartest move he's ever made. But it worked, didn't it? It brought him home.

They're all exhausted by the time they make it back to the village. But they are well-drilled soldiers, more or less, so they head straight for Kane's office.

He's happy to see them, to say the least. Happy, but also surprised, and confused, and more than a little stunned.

"We thought you were dead." He says, twice. Bellamy has never heard Kane mindlessly repeat himself before now.

"We're alive." Indra says, rather unnecessarily.

It seems to help Kane to process the situation, though. That's what has him breaking, hugging each of them in turn, squeezing them tight and slapping their backs. It's all rather moving, sure, but Bellamy has somewhere else he desperately wants to be.

Kane seems to be thinking along much the same lines.

"Ivon and Drusus, stay and tell me what happened. The rest of you should go straight to your families."

Bellamy hesitates a little, even as Miller heads to find Jackson and Indra goes in search of Gaia. He's desperate to see his family, of course he is. But it feels kind of cheeky to take Kane's suggestion as license to go and make a desperate attempt to patch things up with Clarke, when he's pretty sure Kane meant to send him to Octavia.

"Bellamy? Go on, Bellamy. Clarke will want to see you. She's been worried sick."

At that, his heart jumps in his chest. "Sick? Is she OK? The baby -?"

"OK as far as we can tell. But she's been so worried about you, Bellamy. Madi too, of course – although Madi always did seem convinced you'd survived. Go on. Clarke will never forgive me if I keep you here any longer."

He doesn't hesitate another moment. It sucks to hear that Clarke has been upset, of course it does. And he hates to think of her stress and anxiety harming the baby. But a part of him is positively glowing with the knowledge that she cares enough to be so worried about him.

…...

It's a good homecoming, to say the least.

There's sex on the sofa, cuddles aplenty, frantic whispered words about missing each other, about trying again, about how relieved she is to see him alive. There's a reunion with Madi, and jokes about him wearing Clarke's robe.

Clarke even manages to present him with some snacks. He's strangely touched by that, really. A couple of energy bars shouldn't have tears prickling at his eyes. But there's something very sweet and _Clarke_ about her desperately attempting to show she cares by ensuring the practicalities are taken care of.

The best thing is not the sex, though, nor even his daughter's smiling face. The best thing is settling into Clarke's bed at the end of the worst two weeks of his life, and finally feeling that he has come home. She cares about him, she forgives him, she evidently wants a sexual and romantic relationship with him, and now he gets to sleep at her side.

He plans to leave it at that. He plans to catch up on some much-needed rest, and to try to talk about everything that has gone wrong and could be put right in the morning.

But it seems that Clarke has other ideas.

"I thought you were only sleeping with me because you had to." She tells him, and he thinks she sounds scared. "I thought you were only _speaking_ to me because you had to. I'm sorry."

"I thought you were only with me because you had to be, too. I guess we were both wrong?" He squeezes her tight as he says it, knowing that their passionate hugs have always demonstrated better than anything else just how deeply they care about each other.

"It seems that way." She confirms, and he allows his chest to deflate with relief. "Can we – can we maybe start over? And have another go? I know that I screwed up, Bellamy, but I promise -"

"Clarke. I can't believe you even have to ask that, after this evening." She does, though, it seems. And so it is time for him to try that improved communication he has been planning, those last two weeks in the snow. "To be clear, I definitely want us to have another go."

"You do?"

"Yes. But - but I don't want us to start over. You were right, all those months ago. The mistakes we've made – they're part of who we are now. I don't want us to forget about them, but I do forgive you." He's proud of himself for making it through the words. They can do this, he resolves. They can talk openly and honestly about their feelings like this.

He hopes they can share a bed more regularly, that too. Everything about this evening has been pretty perfect, really. He thinks it's certainly replaced that birthday of his as the second favourite day of his life. It just feels even more blissful, to find such joy when he'd been feeling such sorrow before.

"Thank you." She murmurs.

"Pretty sure you've still had to forgive me more times in total." He offers, trying for the bleak humour that used to characterise their relationship on Earth. Maybe a blend of the old and the new is the way forward, he muses.

"Shall we maybe not keep score on that one?"

He chuckles softly at that, drops a few gentle kisses onto the crown of her head. Then he hears himself give an impressively loud yawn. And then she's laughing too, stifling giggles against his chest, and he's hugging her ever closer and giving thanks for his miraculous good fortune.

"Get some sleep, Bellamy."

"If you insist."

She reaches for a goodnight kiss. "Please don't go missing again any time soon."

"I'm staying right here."

He means that. He's never meant anything more seriously in his life, he's pretty sure. Because he doesn't just mean that he's staying here for the night. He means that he plans on staying in her bed pretty regularly, from now on. He means that he plans on staying in her life for as long as they're both breathing. And he means that he plans on staying on good terms with her, at her side, no matter how many petty misunderstandings may come between them.

They have fought for the last time. That's his last coherent thought before sleep. They have had their last true argument, and he will make sure of it. Naturally, they will disagree about things again in their future lives together. But never again will he permit them to have a full-on blazing row, or part in anger. In future, he will remember how much he cares about her, and remind her of the same, and tell her the honest truth.

This is the last time he will ever permit her to doubt his love. And one of these days, when she's ready, he's going to tell her how he feels in actual words at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
